unfolding notebooks

when someone reads aloud
the trail of conduct i once followed,
the train of accidental misunderstanding,
their voices resound in my head
for longer than echo is expected.
and then i can read myself
playing a pathetic act;
whatever was once full of meaning
now has the aspect of a dead cat.
i never want to see that self again,
that fills me with remorse
and doesn't cure the pain.
i never want to be whomever
made me feel sick and ashamed again.
my words are my dna,
i can't change them.
i stuck my beliefs up in my veins,
they die and regenerate
like cells.
still i can't change what's written,
i can't change the feeling.
and when someone reads aloud
what should only scream inside my head,
i feel disrupted
and wrong.
maybe i should learn not to care.